


Returning to Joy

by anillegiblemess



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 12:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anillegiblemess/pseuds/anillegiblemess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sometimes it's best to just let things go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Returning to Joy

**Author's Note:**

> yeah so uh alternate au dirkjake fan-fiction here that at first started out as a dare by my kismesis who claimed he could write a better story than me and hahaha lemme tell u he was defeated by a long-shot. anyway yeah this was the outcome of that.

The room was cold. It was always cold.

You really needed to fix the heater.

A slight mumble of cursings tumbled out of your mouth as you tossed and turned in your sheets filled with cold sweat and aching still of that scent you longed to forget.

You just can't get him out of your head.

And you want him back; to smell that sweet essence again. To touch his baby skin and to kiss him on his perfect lips. 

“Dammit.” You were wide awake now, staring up at the ceiling with your blood shot eyes. You wiped the escaping tears away and sat up, grabbing your phone and reading the ungodly hour of the morning it showed on its LED screen. This is the third night in a row that you had not slept. You couldn't sleep ever since the incident. Ever since you lost the touch of the fiery fabric of his hair. His silky locks slipped between your evenly spaced fingers so perfectly when you tugged and pulled with your hands on his head and pet him like a dog. 

Now your fingers touched your head and gave you little comfort. Sandy blond hair was tugged from your scalp and with bleak disappointment you watched the tiny dead strand of cells that made up one thin line fall to the ground and return to the carpet only to be vacuumed up and never heard from again. A detailed matter of something so simple that made your hands vibrate for no reason in particular. Oh how you hated those philosophical moments, sitting awake on your bed, bathed in moonlight, silver shine making the muscles in your broad shoulders seem more potent on your body; your shoulder blades jutting just a little more from your back.

You stood up from the bed, keeping your phone held in your left hand and you walked down the hallway and into the kitchen. Your apartment seemed empty and dull of life, the yellow walls only mocking the pain you felt inside. You opened the fridge door, scanning the compartments with your orange eyes and only resting on the dwindling stock of beer.

You grabbed the amber glass and opened it, drinking in that burning liquid. You actually hated alcohol, but that fire you felt in the back of your throat when you drained a bottle gave you insight on how it felt in your head. Speaking of which, the headache still hadn't died down, so, you rummaged through the cupboards just above the fridge and found some pills to shove down your throat. You always came back for more and never knew why. You didn't know why about a lot of things. You just didn't know.

Or maybe you just forgot a lot. Yeah... You forgot a lot of things.

You shuffled around to the living room and plopped down on the couch, staring at the TV screen showing nothing but white noise. Ah, so that's what you were hearing. You reached for the remote but found yourself lost in the pixelated white and black dots moving and creating a noise that you didn't even know how to explain. You sat for so long that you legs began to tingle and felt kind of like those dots on the screen. 

“What am I doing?” You say out loud and take another swig of your drink. You just don't know.

You shiver a little. You really need to fix that heater.

 

You think he noticed how thin you had gotten since your last encounter. 

He was standing just over in the snacks aisle, buying crackers and seeming to not know what was the difference between topping crackers and Ritz. 

You came here to just buy more beer and Doritos. It was your diet for pretty much the remainder of your depression-induced coma you suddenly pushed yourself into. Instead of being asleep, you were always awake. Wait, you just described insomnia.

You tensed up before you began to walk over to him, casually looking at the cookies right beside the crackers. He saw you pretty easily creeping up out of the corner of his vision, and he turned his head.

“You look awful.”

You jolted and snapped your head to look at him, angular shades concealing the pleading look you had in your eyes. You needed to tell him how much you missed him. Oh God, you just needed him back in your bed and in your arms and around you. Fuck, you needed him.

But, you only manage to stutter a few pitiful words that never started and went nowhere, “I-I need to... Look, I just... Okay we can...”

He titled his head and raised an eyebrow, jade eyes showing that disinterest and making your stomach churn and drop like you were on a rollercoaster. You looked at his hair instead, noticing how faded the orange was and it was gradually returning to its original shade of jet-black. You sort of knew he wasn't a real red-head.

“Your hair looks great.” Why the fuck did you just say that.

“Um... Yeah, I need to re-dye it soon.” His eyes glanced up to the growing tufts of his hair and he blew one strand out of his field of vision, “I also need to cut it.”

Everything was awkward now. Fuck. You fucked everything up. This was all your fault, there was no denying. It was your fault he lost interest in you. It was your fault he walked out the door of your apartment with a flick of his middle finger and fire in his stormy green eyes. It was your fault you got into your drinking problem; no keeping it a secret it now. It was your fault you were now both standing in the middle of a grocery store giving each other awkward glances and wishing the both a good “fuck you” to the face. 

“I thought you hated that stuff.” He pointed his finger towards your basket full of liquor. You shrugged. 

He then repeated words that stung you as fierce as any wasp would. 

“You've changed.”

And those words brought you back into that distant memory you pushed so far out of your mind and never longed to hear again. You were back in your bed and ready to sleep for once. You were tired and waiting for rest and you were warm. You were warm because the heater was working again. He was by your side, reading a book in the warm light of the bedside lamp. You watched his eyes as they traced the paper, picking up fragments from the words and reading the story unfold into his mind. His lips upturned just a little and his gaze softened and you could reach out and touch his hands and when he turned to you, you pecked him on his angel lips and never wanted to let go of that kiss.

And as you did, it was like a loss. You two looked at each other with such longing, such love then. It was the love you wanted back so badly. You wanted it to grace you again and shield you from the own harm your mind gave you. 

“Don't ever change.” He had told you and kissed you back with just enough passion that you gave him.

Just like that, the memory faded and you were back in the present, guilty, cold, and empty.

“Yeah, well, you've changed too.” You look down at your black sneakers for a moment and wait for the sound of footsteps walking away to ring in your ears, the last chance of getting him back gone.

But it never happened. You looked up and he was looking at you with... You couldn't describe the emotion. Was it concern? Empathy? You hadn't a clue.

“Dirk, you know it wouldn't work out.”

“What?” The sinking feeling in your chest returned.

“What happened last time... I... I don't know. I just don't love you the way you love me anymore.” Ouch.

“Fine.” You spat the word out and were about to turn around and leave when that oncoming rage you held back for so long returned and spilled out of your mouth.

“Fine. You can go and fucking leave me alone. You can let me fucking rot away while you smile and laugh and have a good time elsewhere. You can be yourself again. You can be happy without me around because I know that's all you wanted. You hated me from the start because of my own over-protective shit and I'm sorry. But, you know, maybe you could have at least said something instead of waiting for six months to tell me that you never loved me to begin with and that maybe we should just be friends. Maybe then I wouldn't have gotten drunk every night. Maybe then I would have a better diet. Maybe then I wouldn't stay up and cry all fucking night. Maybe then I wouldn't have dragged a fucking blade across my fucking wrist.”

“Dirk...” 

“You know, it took a lot for me to open up to you. I don't usually open up to anybody. It took me a lot to actually let you see my body, and I know it took a lot for you too. After all, you said you loved me enough to let me inside you. Guess that meant nothing though, so I took you and I's sacred virginity all for shit, and I'm fucking disgusted in myself.”

“I-”

“No. Don't talk to me. Don't you ever fucking speak to me again. I don't need your pity or your help. You are nothing to me. Absolutely fucking nothing. I hate you, Jake English. I fucking hate you. Fuck you.” 

You then turned on your heel and you were just about to walk out of the aisle when you turned your head to look at the stunned man standing with weeping eyes, hands holding crackers meant for toppings and not plain eating, and you uttered the last words to ever let him hear from your mouth.

“You'll miss me when I'm gone, Jake. You'll fucking miss me.”

 

In the still cold room of someone's apartment, there stood a figure in the bedroom. The rats came out during midnight to chew on crumbs of chips and popcorn strewn across the still room, but were scared by the shadows that danced around the blue walls, cast by the figure held together to the ceiling fan by a noose. 

Innocence lost and torn, and all love shaken from his frail body, he was left with a hollow hole in his heart and a brain that only instructed him to destroy. He would have destroyed others, but chose instead to destroy himself. 

The heater still wasn't fixed, but it was a matter long gone to care about anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> why did jake dye his hair red
> 
> the world will never know


End file.
